


Paris

by ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild



Series: Jake and Cassie's Sex Files [6]
Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Hotel Sex, Paris (City), Silk - Freeform, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild/pseuds/ifwednesdaywasaflowerchild
Summary: Jake and Cassie take a sweet, sexy getaway to Paris via the backdoor and the city of Love works its magic on the couple.





	Paris

 "We could've gone anywhere."

Broad shoulders shrug.

He looks like something out of _GQ_ with the sharp black trench coat and the pressed black trousers and the polished shoes and the lights from the Eiffel tower sinking streaks of bluish-silver into his mess of soft, dark hair blowing in the icy wind. Or, maybe, it's the happiness in his bright blue eyes and the happy openness in his smile.

"We could have." he finally concedes, turning to look at her. "But, Paris is beautiful and so are you. I wanted to know if you would look beautiful together."

Because she is.

Like some sort of princess in her white dress and the printed tights; roses and vines and thorns climbing up her legs from inside the black combat boots she adores. She is beautiful with the windblown curls beneath the white beanie and her flushed face and those big blue eyes and the soft wool coat wrapped around her tiny frame to ward off the frosted chill of Paris' autumn wind.

She is beautiful with all of her personality and her synesthesia and she does look so perfect in the city of love and he doesn't want to leave now that he has her here.

"Is the jury still out?"

He reaches for her hand, lifting it up to twirl her around, admiring the swish of fabric around her knees, and swing of red curls. His smile is tender, soft, and his voice is barely a rasp when he delivers his verdict.

"You're perfect, Cassie."

...

To any passers-by, they appear like apparitions of something perfect; newlyweds still caught in the new silk of love's complicated web. Him, tall and sleek and swept up in the enigma of red and white pressed into his side, curls bouncing over the collar of her pretty forest green coat, and giggling face, blushed porcelain, glowing from the warmth of simply being with him.

The concierge smiles at their laughing forms seeking refuge in the aromatic heat of their hotel; coffee and burning wood from the crackling fireplace that warms the lobby. The girl behind the desk can only wish from afar to find a love like theirs, like the couple stealing kisses while they wait for the elevator, smiling tenderly, happily at one another.

...

His hand splays across her back, body crowding her against the wall of the elevator, as she reaches over to press the button and the doors close. "Tonight was magic, Jacob." Cassie's hands curl into the lapels of his coat. "True, real magic."

"Well, it did take a little magic to get us here." there's a brief pause, words left hanging, before he grins, sparkling and happy and playful.

"You!"

"Seein' you under the Eiffel tower, that was magic, sweetheart." Jake rasps, eyes dark and sultry, leaning his forehead against hers. "Just as I knew it would be."

"You looked pretty magical yourself, Mister Stone." Cassie tugs on his jacket, offering him a cute little flirtatious smile. "I think I saw a couple of women drooling."

"Nah, darlin', they were droolin' over you." he presses closer, kissing along her cheekbones and jawline. "They were jealous of how pretty you look."

Cassie just giggles, tilting up to catch him off-guard in a gentle kiss. Perhaps, Paris comes with its own sort of magic, perhaps the city of love expects you to play by its rules because no sooner than her mouth latches onto his, does he wrap her up in his arms, holding her close, tight, safe.

The elevator dings, doors opening to deposit them onto their floor.

They stumble to their room, both fiddling with buttons and ties and hats, mouths fused. He fumbles to get the card in the door, finding it rather difficult with Cassie sucking on his neck, and her hands diving into his jacket, eager to shove the heavy wool off of his shoulders.

"If we're goin' to do this in Paris," he murmurs, pulling away long enough to walk over to the switch and bring the fireplace to life. "Let's do this the right way."

Another giggle.

Crumpled wool and pretty chiffon and fleece-lined silk hit the floor while Jake's mouth marks her neck and kisses along her shoulders. Crisp blue cotton is pushed off of his broad shoulders and she bites her lip when she unbuttons his pants and tugs them over his hips. Delicate peach lace lands on top of his shirt, leaving them both in only their underwear.

Heated kisses, groping hands, and Cassie's little shriek at the tickle of his stubble mark their path to the bed where he sees her splayed on champagne silk, haloed in red, and simpering up at him, eager to have his heavy heat on top of her.

"Art, Cass." Jake growls, crawling up the length of her, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. "You look like art."

The inflection, the rough growl draws her up like a bow, back arched elegantly allowing him to tug her panties down her long legs. There's something to be said for the picture reality is painting for him, at the moment. It's always been special to have Cassie naked beneath him, to feel her soft body moving with his, but to see her, here, now, it's different.

Maybe, it's the play of dim fire-light, the way it sinks copper into her hair, and shimmers against fair skin. Or, maybe, it's their location; the silk sheets of a French hotel, the glow of the Eiffel tower outside the window, the infusion of a subtle magic swirling like snowflakes, the crackling heat between them, and the demands of the city, wanting love in whatever form it may come in.

Protection is something unspoken, whether it be her birth control pill or a condom, they both acknowledge the need for it before things can go any further.

Fingers interlace above her head, legs tangle, and he sinks into her. They both make soft noises of relief. It is completion; the last piece of a complicated puzzle being pressed into place. The pace for the rest of the night is slow and punishing and _so good_ , it almost hurts. Whimpers and barely audible noises of pleasure and something like ecstasy fill the room, deep groans into pale flesh, and murmurs of how good it feels to be connected like this, to feel this deeply.

It's a wild dream, a fantasy only played out in the depths of his subconscious, to be rolling between expensive sheets with a beautiful woman. To have her pull him over the edge with a whimper of his name, to go flying off into that abyss with a dark growl. Then, to have her curl up in his arms, sleepy and satisfied and boneless, is just icing on an already perfect cake.

...

The balcony overlooks sweeping courtyards, splashed with luscious sprays of autumnal colors from the changing leaves, offers her a gorgeous view of the sun dripping down the side of the Eiffel Tower like a finely tailored dress, and the opportunity to let the cool breeze flush her cheeks and give her a comfortable chill.

Tilting her face toward the sky and soaking in the bliss of the moment is how he finds her. Small hands curled around the side rail and red hair glowing rich amber in the morning sun. He slips out of the open glass door and comes up behind her. He brackets her hands with his and drops his face into her neck.

"Mornin', sweetheart." he mouths the soft skin, breathing in the sweet scent of vanilla and sugar that clings to her. "Enjoyin' the view?"

"It's perfect." she breathes, tilting her head to one side to allow him better access. "How did you convince Jenkins to let us use the back door?"

"He had to come to Paris on business." he grins against her neck. "Something about Arthur and Merlin and I stopped listenin' when he didn't object to leavin' the back door open."

His hands move to her hips, tugging her back into him, mouth moving more insistently, pulling a soft moan from her. She releases the railing and rests her hands on his, interlacing their fingers.

"It really is a gorgeous view." she moans, even as her eyes close and she leans her head back on his shoulder, far too caught up in the feel of his mouth on her neck to worry with the view.

"I'm sure it is, darlin'," he mumbles, brushing her hair aside to access more of her. "I know a view I like better, though."

"Yeah?" despite the casual tone, her eyes never open, and she never gives any indication that he should cease his ministrations. "And, what might that be?"

"This particular piece is for my eyes only," Jake growls, nipping playfully at her neck. "Now, if you'd like, you can come back into the room and I'll describe it in as much detail as necessary for you to understand how I view this artwork I have here in my arms."

"Lead the way, Mister Stone."

"As you wish, Missus Stone."


End file.
